


Coffee, Tea, and Sympathy

by sidewinder



Series: The Spaces in Between [16]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Domestic, Episode Related, Episode s11e19: Conned, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, and food, fluff and conversations, gratuitous tea and coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The longer you let a lie go on, the harder it is to ever come clean from it, my friend.”</p><p>“I’ve never lied to my son about us.”</p><p>“No, you’ve just carefully managed to avoid telling the truth for how many years now?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee, Tea, and Sympathy

**Author's Note:**

> Characters property of NBC/Dick Wolf. This story was written purely for fun and not for profit. 
> 
> Set in and around the 11th season episode ["Conned"](http://allthingslawandorder.blogspot.com/2010/04/law-order-svu-conned-recap-review.html). This is me basically trying to resolve some nagging points in my head about this episode, as well as how/when Fin would ever actually come out to his son after all of the difficulties they've had in their relationship.

“Great, still open. I am _starving_.”

The pungent aromas of roasted garlic and yeasty pizza dough assaulted the olfactory senses the moment one opened the outer door to Rosa’s Trattoria. And when one was as hungry as John Munch was at this late hour—nearly eleven at night—that tempting bouquet was almost torturous unless the promise of hearty Italian food was quickly fulfilled.

Fin, however, seemed far less enthusiastic. “Glad one of us has an appetite.”

“I thought you were the one who wanted to eat here tonight.”

“It’s fine. Go on,” Fin insisted when John hesitated before opening the inner door to the dining room, the one that kept out the winter cold. In fact Fin pushed on ahead, trailing a _let’s-get-this-over-with_ cloud of grumpiness behind him. John shrugged and followed his partner inside. He was too damn hungry to do otherwise.

Rosa’s was your typical old school New York Italian restaurant, the kind that used to fill the five boroughs before checkered tablecloth joints serving meatballs in gravy had become passé, and hipster enclaves offering artisanal pasta with fancy names and organic credentials started taking over the city. Now these comfortable, familiar places were increasingly few and far between, but Rosa’s in Brooklyn remained a neighborhood favorite, resistant to the fickle foodie trends of the day.

Located a few blocks from Fin’s apartment, Rosa’s was also a regular dinner haunt for the two detectives. They usually staggered in close to closing time, like tonight, but were always greeted warmly by the maitre’d and ushered to their favorite table. They liked the back dining room, away from the noise of the front bar and closer to the heat of the pizza oven. On a cold February night that warmth was especially welcome.

“Gentlemen, the usual to start?”

“Works for me.” John sat down and loosened his tie. They were off the clock after too long of a day and it was time to finally unwind. “Fin?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Mimo will be taking care of you tonight. He’ll be with you shortly.” Their host handed them menus before departing, although John barely had to look at his. He had most of the offerings memorized by this point; Fin was not one to experiment with new places to eat once he’d found somewhere he liked. The two of them seemed to rotate between three or four restaurants on the nights when they didn’t order in or raid the fridge for leftovers.

“Want to share an order of the stuffed mushrooms? Or the calamari?” John asked his companion, who was staring down at the menu with either complete concentration or straight through it to somewhere below the wood floor beneath their feet.

“Sounds good.”

“Which one? Or both?”

“Uh huh.”

John pursed his lips and bit back a sarcastic comment. Fin had been like this all afternoon and evening, barely a word to spare, distracted if not outright argumentative. His thoughts were clearly somewhere else, but John had been trying his best to behave himself because he knew the reasons why.

Fin wasn’t distracted by any old case they were working. Fin was worried about his son, and his involvement in their current one.

“You’re right, it’s a little late for a grease bomb of an appetizer. My doctor says I need to start eating healthier, you know. ‘Salads,’ he says. No matter how many times I try to convince him I’m allergic to green vegetables.”

“Mmm.”

More silence followed. John’s good behavior and patience had reached its limits. “By the way, did Olivia tell you the news? She’s carrying my love child. I knew I shouldn’t have let her talk me into that quickie in the crib a few months ago.”

“Right,” Fin mumbled, and then finally looked up from the menu at John with a confused expression on his face. “Wait, what?”

“Earth to Odafin...” John waved his hand in front of Fin’s face. “Well look at that, someone _is_ alive in there and capable of higher brain function.”

“I’m tired. Not really in the mood for you screwin’ around with me tonight.”

“Then I could have gone back to my own place. I still can, if you prefer to keep your cranky ass solitary company tonight.”

“I would _prefer_ a quiet dinner. But not alone, okay?”

John shrugged and gave up in defeat. He really didn’t feel like the hour ride on the subway up to his place in the Bronx anyway, so he’d shut it until and unless Fin decided to talk.

“John, Fin, good evening.”

“Hey Mimo, how’s business?”

“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” The familiar waiter put down their drinks—a Negroni for John, Moretti beer for Fin. One thing John would say for this place was the bartender had a knack for classic cocktails and decent imported beers. “Want to hear the specials for this evening?”

“It’s Wednesday, so I’m guessing veal chop with Barolo wine sauce, and the crab cakes appetizer?”

“You know chef all too well. Ready to order?”

John ended up going for the veal special and Fin got his standard chicken parm with a side of spaghetti. The late hour and Fin’s mood had put John off ordering a heavy appetizer, sticking with the _stracciatella_ soup in lieu of the standard house salad.

“I’ll be right back with some bread,” Mimo said before departing. John sipped slowly at his drink and made his best attempt to find the old photographs of Little Italy on the wall beside their table completely fascinating.

Bread arrived, a warm basket redolent of garlic and butter and promising satisfactory carbohydrate overload. “I’m just pissed about Ken,” Fin finally said as he broke into one of the crusty hot rolls, admitting to the obvious. So obvious that John resisted the urge to make a snarky response and let his partner continue at his own pace. ( _See? I have learned a few things about not being such an asshole in my relationships_ , John said to the nagging voices of his ex-wives in his head.) “He doesn’t let me know where he’s living, he’d rather protect some junkie kid off the street than help or trust his own father, and every time I try to reach out to him, I only make things worse between us.”

“He’s at that age when kids think they’re adults and know better than the rest of us old grumpfucks. He’ll figure it out with time and experience.”

“I don’t want that experience to involve criminal activity. Not more than it already has, thanks to certain people in his family.” Fin looked at him and John grimaced; no one needed a reminder of Darius and the problems he had caused them all. “I wish I could convince him it wasn’t because he’s gay that I get so worried about who he’s hangin’ out with. But he gets so _defensive_ about it and I always manage to somehow offend him ’cause I guess I don’t know the ‘politically correct’ ways to talk about that kind of thing.”

“You know I hate to flog this long dead and rotting horse once more, but perhaps if you let your son in on one particular _teeny-tiny_ secret about yourself, he might stop thinking that you have a problem with his sexual orientation.”

“What’s our business is our business.”

“And not that of your own flesh and blood? All our friends at the sixteenth know about us by now and you can’t tell your own son?”

“Look, you don’t have any kids. You don’t get it.” John rolled his eyes. He fucking hated it when people pulled that card on him, as if reproducing suddenly made a person an expert on all there was to know about child-rearing. All of the years of abuse, neglect and outright torture inflicted on children by their own mothers and fathers he’d seen at SVU had long ago proven otherwise. And Fin _knew_ that was a response he hated, so he simply glared until Fin realized he was on the receiving end of John’s _oh-no-you-didn’t_ death stare. “It’s complicated! I tell him now, he’s gonna want to know for how long, and why I didn’t tell him earlier, and how could I be such a hypocrite.”

“The longer you let a lie go on, the harder it is to ever come clean from it, my friend.”

“I’ve never lied to my son about us.”

“No, you’ve just carefully managed to avoid telling the truth for how many years now?”

Fin sighed. “When I found out about Ken, I was still trying to wrap my head around _us_. I was worried how being gay was going to affect his life, since he was still a college kid. And I didn’t know what it said about _me_ , like now here’s something else to blame on me for being a bad father, right? Never there for him when he was younger, so he didn’t have a good male role model in his life. Or maybe it meant being gay ran in the family, I don’t know. I was having a hard time accepting him because I was having a hard time accepting _myself._ ”

“That makes sense. And it all seems like perfectly sensible things you should be telling him, not me.”

The conversation paused as Mimo returned with Fin’s salad and John’s soup. “More bread?”

“Please. And another one of these.” John raised his not-quite empty glass. Once Mimo left, he continued, “At some point the truth is going to come out, and you’d better make sure it comes from you and not someone or somewhere else. If you ever want to have an honest relationship with your son, you need to talk to him.”

“I know. I know. I just have to figure out how to do it.” Fin stabbed his salad with his fork and chewed on the captured greens thoughtfully. After he swallowed, he said, “By the way, Olivia is playin’ your ass. She told me that baby’s mine, after we got nasty on that stakeout two months ago.”

“Personally I’m suspicious about Cragen. The other night he had her in his office with the blinds drawn and...”

“C’mon man, don’t make me lose my appetite, here.” Fin scowled at him, but he couldn’t suppress a smile of defeat for very long. “Shut up and eat your dinner, especially if you think you’re getting any dessert when we get home tonight.”

“Ah yes, in the immortal words of Roger Waters, you can’t have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

 

 

* * *

John woke up some time in the early morning hours, shivering and reaching for the blankets to ward off the chilly air of Fin’s bedroom. He realized he felt so cold because Fin wasn’t there beside him; the man gave off enough warmth to be a portable heater and kept the thermostat set low in the apartment by default. That was fine when John had him there to snuggle with, but otherwise it left his “bony ass” (as Fin called it so often he wished he had a nickel) fucking freezing.

Buried beneath the blankets, he could likely get back to sleep. But he could also see soft light coming through the open doorway leading into the living room. Curiosity and a preference to seek out his favorite heat source compelled him to go investigate.

He got up and threw on one of Fin’s robes, moving quickly in his bare feet across the cold wood floor. Stepping into the living room he found Fin on the sofa, the light coming from the glow of his laptop screen. He seemed deeply intent on whatever he was reading there, so John slipped quietly around to sit at the other end of the sofa, pulling his legs up under the robe as he sat down to keep warm.

Fin glanced briefly over at him, then back at the laptop.

“Couldn’t sleep?” John asked, testing the conversational waters.

“I was sleeping fine. That’s when it came to me.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t seem to talk to Ken face to face. There’s always something else going on, or I say one wrong thing and set him off without meaning to. So I thought if I try write it all out...put it in a letter where I can take my time, maybe then I can somehow tell him the things I keep meaning to say.”

“Good idea.”

“You think?”

John shrugged. “Worth a try, if you’re ready to tell him the truth. Though I’d say something handwritten might be better than sending a Microsoft missive.”

“I will, but it's easier for me to think it out this way.”

John moved to get up and return to the bedroom. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Why don’t you keep me company since you’re up?”

That would be no hardship. Fin shifted so that John could stretch out beside him—and steal some of that precious body heat. “Can I read it when you’re finished?”

“I was gonna ask you to. Make sure I don’t say something stupid.”

“I might not be the best one to judge that, but I’ll do my best.”

The sofa wasn’t as big as the bed, but it was big enough, and the warmth of his lover more than made up for the lack of leg room. John settled in to hopefully catch a few more hours of rest before the alarm went off or they got an emergency call to come in early, letting the soft tapping of the laptop keyboard and the warmth of Fin’s body lull him to sleep.

 

 

* * *

Sunlight and the distant beeping of the bedroom alarm clock eventually dragged John into a waking state. He realized with a groan, as he attempted to sit up, that his back was going to get brutal revenge on him today for sleeping on the sofa. He could hear Fin already taking his morning shower but bless that man, he had already made coffee and had a covered mug waiting for John on the side table.

Next to it was an envelope, with a sticky note on it that said, _Please read._

 _Coffee first?_ John wondered, _or performing my civic duty?_ Curiosity was killing him so even as he was still slowly returning to the waking world, he picked up and opened the envelope, gently unfolded the pages within, and began to read.

 

 

* * *

Not long after, Fin came out of the bathroom, already fully dressed for the day at work. That was a pity; if not, John would have immediately dragged him back to the bedroom for another helping of last night’s “dessert”.

“Did you read it?”

“I did.”

“So what d’you think?”

“I think you need to warn me before tossing an emotional grenade like that in my direction first thing in the morning. On one cup of coffee no less.”

Fin’s brow creased with worry. “That bad?”

“On the contrary, it’s wonderful.” John got up to take Fin’s face in his hands and give him a slow and loving kiss, one filled with all the emotion with which Fin’s words had filled his heart. That, at least, he could accomplish without mussing up his man’s attire.

“I meant every word of it,” Fin said once John released his lips.

“I know you did, that’s what makes it so beautiful. I can’t speak for Ken, but if my own father had ever shown even a fragment of the love and remorse you’ve put to paper here...” John stopped before even allowing his thoughts travel too far down that road. “Are you sending it out today?”

“I gotta head over to the ADA’s office this morning, go over my statement regarding Andrew. Ken’s gonna be there too because of his involvement in getting Andrew's confession. If he doesn’t blow up as soon as he sees me, I’m gonna give it to him then.”

“Good luck. Catch you later downtown?”

“Yeah. I gotta go.” He started to head for the door then turned back with a smile and a soft, “Love you.”

“Love you too. Now get out of here before I make you late and refuse to be held responsible for my actions.”

 

 

* * *

Saturday morning finally arrived after a tumultuous end to the work week and John was happy to sleep in. Fin had gone  to the precinct to finish up paperwork on the Hingham case, which had turned even more convoluted than before once the truth had come out about how Andrew’s doctor had been abusing him for years, causing far more of his problems than she had ever tried to solve. It was a mess, but at least now the truth was out and the poor kid could get the actual treatment he needed—instead of being sexually abused by a woman who was supposed to be there to heal him, not cause him further suffering.

At some point over the weekend, John knew he needed to run by his own apartment to go through his mail, make sure nothing had turned into a toxic experiment gone awry in his woefully neglected refrigerator. But for now he was content to turn up the heat (while Fin wasn’t around), put on some water for tea, and catch up on a week’s worth of non-work related reading.

He’d barely gotten into the second chapter of a new book on the death of Vince Foster when the apartment buzzer rang. He got up to interrogate the intercom, “Who is it?” only to hear back, _“It’s Ken.”_

 _Damn. Figures he’d stop by when Fin isn’t here._ But if Ken had read the letter, now might be a good time to have a few words with the young man himself. “Come on up,” John said before buzzing the door open, glad to have a minute to put on something more than his robe and boxers on before having to answer the door.

He was debating shooting Fin a quick text about what was going on when he heard Ken knocking.

John opened the door, apologizing, “Sorry, Ken, you missed your dad by about an hour. He’s at the precinct if you need to see him right away.”

“And you’re here, at dad’s apartment.”

“That would indeed appear to be the case.”

“So, then...it’s true. What he said in the letter he gave to me two days ago.”

“Why don’t you come in and we can talk.” Ken hesitated but only for a moment before accepting John’s invitation. “Can I get you something? Coffee, tea?”

“Coffee is good.”

Thankfully there was still some left from before Fin had headed out. “How do you like it?” John called from the kitchen.

“Black is fine.”

“Good, because I think Fin killed the last of the milk this morning.” John found a clean mug to fill and brought it out to Ken, who’d taken a seat on the sofa. “He was worried you might not even read the letter,” he told Ken as he sat down in the easy chair across from him.

“To be honest I thought about tossing it. I couldn’t figure out what kind of game he was playing now when he gave it to me. I sat on it until last night when I guess curiosity finally got the better of me.” Ken took a sip of the coffee and paused thoughtfully, cupping the large mug in both hands. “All this time I thought he disapproved of me being gay, and now I find out he’s been in a relationship with you? For _years_?”

“This has been killing him for ages, Ken. Like he said in that letter.”

“You read it?”

“He asked me to be his editor. But there wasn’t a single word I thought he should change.”

“I wish he’d just _told_ me these things years ago. Any of it.”

“And I wish I’d never walked four women down the aisle who now all own significant portions of my bank accounts, but you can’t change the mistakes you’ve made in the past. Besides, you know how your dad is. Stubborn, proud...but beneath it all he’s probably the biggest softie on the planet.”

“To everyone except his own son and my mother. This...” Ken pulled the letter out of his coat pocket, “this doesn’t magically fix everything.”

“Does it at least put a reparative framework in place?”

Ken sighed. “It’s...maybe a start.”

“I think that’s all he was hoping for.” John finished off the last of his tea while he let Ken process things further. “Listen, you want to go out and get lunch somewhere? I could call your dad to meet us, or you and I can talk some more and wait for him to come home.”

“Lunch sounds good. You’re this important to my father, maybe we should get to know each other a little better.” He smirked and added, “Maybe you can help me figure out to deal with him better.”

“I’ve been working with him for ten years and I’m still trying to figure that out.” John got up. “Finish your coffee and give me a minute to ready to head out.”

 

 

* * *

Fin cleared the steps up onto the sidewalk from the subway station, getting his bearings before confirming which direction to walk. John had texted him about an hour ago that he should finish up and “get his non-bony ass” over to the bookstore/cafe not far from Fin’s apartment. Fin found that puzzling given John knew he wasn’t crazy about that place; it seemed that multiple tattoos and body piercings were a job requirement to wait tables there, and most of the menu offerings were “-free” of anything actually tasty. He usually also had to drag John out of there before he got into a heated political argument with someone in the book aisles. But, he’d been summoned and truthfully there was nothing at the office for him now that couldn’t wait until Monday.

He spotted John soon enough—or rather, heard him first, rattling off his radical credentials to a bored-looking, dreadlocked white kid at a neighboring table. Bored or stoned, Fin couldn’t exactly read the kid’s blank expression as John was going off on privacy rights in the digital age. “The government has a file on every single one of us, you know.”

“Yeah and I seem to recall yours was less than a single page, and said you were not to be taken seriously,” Fin interrupted, noting the plates and silverware indicating John had been eating with someone else. “What’s up, why’d you drag me here?”

“We have company, Fin, so put on your happy face.”

“Who’s that?”

“It’s me, dad.”

Fin turned around in surprise at hearing his son’s voice behind him. “Ken, hey...”

“Hey.”

Fin struggled to find something more intelligent to say, once again finding his words difficult to come by in his son’s presence. But then before he could speak, Ken did something truly unexpected: he embraced his father warmly, far more openly than the last time Fin had awkwardly tried to hug his son.

“Why don’t you two enjoy a few minutes to yourselves. I’m going to go check out new releases,” John announced, getting to his feet as Fin and Ken drew apart.

“Try not to start a fight with someone and make me have to come to your rescue.”

“But it’s hot when you do that.” John grinned and walked off, just as Fin was ready to curse him for leaving him alone to do this.

Even if he knew he had to.

But Ken seemed to be in a good mood—at least compared to how he normally was in his father’s presence. He took a chair at the table and Fin did the same, and he started to explain, “I came by to see you this morning.”

“Sorry I wasn’t home.”

“It’s cool. Worked out anyway...now that I know John’s more than your partner on the job, it was nice to get to know him a little better.” Ken shook his head and laughed a little. “Interesting man.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“I can see why he’s been good for you.”

“You can? ’Cause sometimes I gotta wonder...” Fin paused as a waitress came by and he ordered a coffee. “I’m glad you read what I had to say.”

“I’m glad you finally decided to let me in, at least a little bit. It’s got to be tough in your line of work to be in a gay relationship.”

Fin shrugged. “We keep it cool; those who need to know, do, and everyone else can mind their own damn business. It’s you I worry about, Ken. But _not_ because you’re gay. I’d worry the same if you were straight, bi, whatever. You’re young and I’ve seen too much of what can happen to kids today at school or hookin’ up in bars, getting some girl pregnant and having their whole lives changed before they’ve even started living it...”

“At least that last one is something you don’t have to worry about with me.”

“You don’t know what I see on the job, Ken. Stranger things have happened. _Way_ stranger.”

“Maybe, but I can’t live my life being afraid of ending up a victim because you deal with them every day. I’m not going to stop living my own life, including trying to help people in my own way. People like Andrew.”

“Speaking of Andrew, so you know...turns out his shrink was responsible for the majority of his problems and she’s going to be the one going away for a long time, not him.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. That Dr. Stanton? She’s a real piece of work. She went to bail him out before his mother could even get to him on Thursday. We found him at her place, drugged up and with a baby cryin’ in another room. Turns out she’s been doing Andrew since he was thirteen and claims to be crazy in love with him. Even had his baby. Crazy I’ll buy, but that ain’t love. Now that she’s gonna see some justice, maybe Andrew can finally get the type of help he really needs.”

“I had no idea. He never told me anything about any of that.”

“That’s why what I do is important, Ken. I know you want to help people...so do I. We just do it in different ways, and sometimes you gotta trust in the way _I_ do things.”

“I guess so. I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry about a lot of things, but we can talk about that more some other time. So tell me what’s up with you these days. I want to know, _not_ because I’m worrying but so I have an idea what’s going on in your life.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, for real.” Fin reached across the table to take his son’s hands in his own and say, “I’m only asking for a chance, Ken, to make things right before it’s too late. It isn’t, is it?”

“No, it’s not. Dad.”

Fin smiled, and sat back to listen with an open heart and mind.

* * *

Fin lost track of time as they talked— _really_ talked, for maybe the first time in more years than he wanted to think about. Maybe a half-hour, maybe longer or maybe less, but at some point Ken stopped mid-sentence and looked up behind his father, who turned and saw John standing there with a grim expression.

“Did you get in trouble here again?” Fin groaned.

“No, I did not. But as much as I hate to break up this heartwarming father and child reunion, I just got a call from Cragen.”

“Oh, no.”

“Rape-homicide vic found in the alley behind a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Looks like it could be related to an unsolved case we were on last year. Naturally we’ve been summoned to get there a.s.a.p. before the trail dries up again.”

Fin turned to give Ken an apologetic look.

“It’s okay. I know how it goes.”

Fin went to get his wallet out but John waved him off. “I got it covered, settled up at the counter already so we can head out.”

“Thanks, John,” Ken said.

“No worries. You buy next time.” He winked and Ken laughed, which Fin realized was something he hadn’t seen his son do—genuinely, not sarcastically—in a very long time. He got to his feet to give Ken another hug, and promised, “We’re gonna pick up where we left off soon, okay?”

“Yeah. We will.”

As they headed out, John observed, “So that seemed to be going quite well.”

“It was. Figures work would have to fuck things up.”

John patted him on the back. “I wouldn’t worry about that. One step at a time, right?”

“Guess so.”

“So let’s get this over with and hope we don’t lose an entire weekend to dead bodies and DNA swabs.”

 

 

* * *

John yawned—loudly, for there were still very few people in at work yet—and stretched out to crack his back. He blinked against the intruding first rays of sunlight coming through the office windows and asked Fin, “What day is it?”

“Monday.”

“What happened to Sunday?”

“We spent most of it here, and running around trying to find our perp.”

“Oh yeah. Damn.” John dropped his head onto his desk, banged it a few times hoping that might wake him up. Instead it left him feeling dizzy and he decided leaving his head down, maybe even catching a few quick moments of a catnap, wasn’t the worst idea before the morning madness began...

Whether he drifted off at all or simply spaced out for a while he couldn’t be certain, but the next thing he knew a warm and comforting hand on his shoulder stirred him back to some semblance of life. He lifted his head to see a steaming mug placed before him: his silver needle white tea, he could tell from the delicate aroma wafting up into his nose. His private stash of the good stuff he didn’t share with the plebeians here at the precinct who couldn’t tell Earl Grey from Irish Breakfast, who didn’t appreciate why a good cup of tea could do more for the weary soul than gallons of coffee. Mind you, he appreciated both beverages in their time and place, but no morning at the sixteenth was tolerable without his favorite.

“You are a prince among men,” John sighed contentedly.

“And you’re miserable in the morning without caffeine, so this is a matter of self-preservation.” Fin pulled over a chair and sat beside him. “By the way, Ken left me a message last night, I guess we were out interviewing some of the victim’s friends when he called. Wanted to see if we could meet for dinner next weekend, if we’re not tied up with work.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m gonna grab some breakfast, you want something? I figure we got an hour yet before Melinda’s in and before we can find out if she got anything from the autopsy.”

“Food before corpses. Good idea.”

“Fried egg on wheat?”

“My hero.”

Fin got up and grabbed his coat before heading out of the squad room. John sipped his tea and tried to get his focus back on the files in front of him, but the caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet; his brain needed a few more minutes of downtime still.

And so he shuffled aside the paperwork and switched focus to his computer, clicking on the icon for his email and opening the folder dedicated to his personal account. Saturday morning while his partner was at the office, he’d gotten on Fin’s laptop and forwarded a copy of the letter draft to himself. So he’d have a copy to have on hand, whenever he needed a little pick-me-up.

Of course he’d read it enough times by now to have it nearly memorized, so his eyes skimmed ahead to one paragraph near the end, smiling to read it one more time:

 

 

> _The thing I want most for you is to be happy, Ken. I want you to be proud of who you are, like I’m proud of you for having the courage to be yourself when I haven’t always been that strong myself. I want you to find someone to love the way I love John, and who loves you back as much and makes you feel so lucky for every day you have together, until you can’t even remember what it was like when he wasn’t there. I want to be a part of your life when that happens and for you, and for you to know that you have my blessing._

“Someone looks to be in a good mood for a Monday morning.” A familiar female voice called his attention away from the computer screen. John looked up to see Olivia putting her things down at her desk.

“Remarkably so, given I’ve been here all night.”

She came over and rested against his desk, then asked, “I need to know your secret for pulling _that_ off.”

John raised his mug at her and quoted, “‘There is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea’.” After pausing for a sip his smile widened and he added, “And the love of someone who knows when you need it the most.”

  _* end *_

**Author's Note:**

> I was hoping to finally write some serious Munch/Fin smut instead of pure fluff but it just didn't work for this story. Next one I'm working on, I promise!


End file.
